


The Cogs in the Machine

by tothineownelfbetrue



Category: Disenchantment (TV 2018)
Genre: (kinda) raising a child that's not really yours, Bad Parenting, Candy, Elfo needs a hug, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Emotionally Repressed, F/M, For like everyone really, Gen, Implied Corporal Punishment, Implied Kissy/Elfo, Implied abuse, Just keep smiling or else, Present Tense, Teenage Rebellion, absentee parenting, barely there childhood, crapsaccharine world, elven utopia is anything but, elves use child labor, enforcement of the system at any cost, growing up is hard to do, punishment for breaking the rules, sad childhood, this fic is so not beta read, totalitarianism, writing 5k about a random background character because why not?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-08-26 04:04:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16674178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tothineownelfbetrue/pseuds/tothineownelfbetrue
Summary: The Jolly Code is the absolute law.  The Law must be followed at any cost.Superviso is just there to uphold the Jolly Code and make sure things are working smoothly.  His job would be so much easier if Elfo didn't keep gumming up the works.Or: That weird fic about how a random elf fails at parenting someone else's kid.





	The Cogs in the Machine

  
-

 

"His name is Elfo."

The words don't do much to explain exactly what is going on, and Superviso stares at the familiar purple face he hadn't expected to see again, then looks down at the squirming bundle in his friend's arms and does the only logical thing in such a situation. He slams the door to his tree shut behind the cloaked elf and then ushers the unwelcome visitor away from his open window.

"What have you done now?!" he hisses, as soft as he can manage. There's always the chance Weirdo is lurking around outside, or even Shocko who always seems to be around when anything unusual has happened. Superviso realizes that maybe this isn't the best greeting for someone who left and was assumed dead up until showing up again on your doorstep, but damn it, this elf ruins his life every time and he's getting pretty sick of it.

He knows the smart thing would do would be to kick his former friend out of his house and alert the guards, but it's harder than he assumes it would be, especially when the other elf gives him that pleading look. "I've got a son now."

It explains nothing and only adds a bunch more questions to the pile, but Superviso isn't sure where to even begin. "Why are you here?" As if he needs to ask.

"I need your help."

Superviso groans again. He'd known it was coming and he'd still walked right into it. It’s hard for him to turn down an offer for help from this elf, of all elves. "And why would you expect me to help you? You left."

"And I came back." That gaze was defiant, or as much as an elf got anyway. "And now I need your help."

There is a long pause. It lasts forever. Then Superviso clears his throat, looks down at the bundle in his friend's arms, almost balefully. "What is it?"

"His name is Elfo." Like it answers everything. Maybe it does, because Superviso doesn't ask him again.

-

It's not as hard as he imagined to lie. To doctor up some paperwork. No one even thinks twice about what he says and it's like nothing ever happened. Baby elves tend to be kept sequestered away in their nurseries and only mingle with the populace when they're old enough to work, so there's not a lot to explain to individual elves anyway.

Superviso covers for the other elf, despite his reluctance. Elfo's mother is his cousin. She's dead, obviously. A lot of elves are dead now. That's why they live in this secrecy.

As much as there might have been trouble over the return of a missing elf, it gets played off as normal. No one asks questions even though they should.

And day by day, the knowledge - or lack thereof - eats away at him.

-

The child is more mobile than expected. Superviso has to scramble away from a work shift to catch the small green thing as it makes its determined way somewhere that isn't the Elm tree. He scoops it in one arm and takes it to its father.

The other elf doesn't seem surprised for some reason, even though Elfo is particularly young to be so active. He takes the child from Superviso and looks him over.

"You need to keep him under control!" Superviso hisses. "Children are not supposed to be out unless they're working."

"It's okay, Elfo." The other elf steadfastly ignores Superviso's scolding. "Let's get you back to the tree now."

Superviso grabs his arm as he passes, dragging him slightly aside. A pang of fear goes through him as he looks at the man and his small - but too big really, too big for comfort already - child. "He's not human is he?" His voice is pitched low so the others won't hear... if they would even hear. Humans are taboo. All the outside is, but humans are a particular sore point with the elves. He hopes that at least the other elf will have been wise enough to not open up that particular can of worms.

The steady stare that greets his question does nothing to ease his concerns. Nor does the silent walk back to the Elm.

-

He doesn't want to have anything to do with the boy, but more and more, he finds himself saddled with the responsibility that should belong with the boy's father. He wishes he could say he's surprised, but it feels like this has always been his life... cleaning up these messes.

He wants to hate it. At first he does.

When the boy's father is busy drinking with the others, he finds himself having to stay sober to babysit. He sits in his own kitchen and stirs the pot of melted chocolate he's preparing for dinner and keeps casting an eye at the small green child on the other side of the room. He almost panics when he glances over and Elfo isn't there... only to jump when he feels a hand against his ankle.

"Elfo!" He scolds. "You shouldn't interrupt someone while they're cooking." He grumbles and shoves Elfo aside with the flat of his foot. "Just stay there." He grimaces as he realizes he dropped his spoon, and reaches down for it, only to find that Elfo has gotten to it first. His spoon disappears into the boy's mouth and he can only watch in frustration. When Elfo spits the spoon out, it's clean.

"Mmm..." Elfo licks his lips, almost bouncing with excitement. "Mallow."

Superviso has known that Elfo has started talking already, but he's never really heard it. He looks down at the boy in surprise and suspicion. There was mallow in the chocolate, but not much. He's been rationing it. "How did you know that?" He asks.

Elfo grins up at him as he holds up the spoon.

An hour later, Elfo is too full of sweets to try any more and Superviso is amazed at the ease at which the boy identifies the various flavors. Once he's tried something, he seems to be able to detect any amount of it in a recipe. It's astonishing. He wonders if it's the result of being some kind of hybrid because no pure blooded elf he knows has such a keen palate.

Perhaps Elfo will eventually be put on a job making candy recipes. It would be a waste of his abilities otherwise.

Superviso has never gotten to assign someone to the candy development department. Everyone there has been there for ages. It's almost exciting. He just needs things to go well and it will be good news for the both of them.

-

Elfo is growing fast. Too fast.

At four, he's already on his feet. Most elf babies would have been barely crawling, if that. The sight of the small green child puttering around the house so easily is unnerving. Superviso dreads what will come next.

And despite the effort to close off the door with obstructions, the inevitable happens.

The sound of the King's bellow reverberates across the clearing, perhaps a little higher pitched and panicky than he might have preferred. The elves all stop at the sound of it, freezing in place, still gripping their tools or bits of candy in clutching hands as they turn to peer in the direction the sound is coming from.

Superviso stands stiff and tense, not willing to look.

"What is going on?" The King howls out and Superviso closes his eyes, turning at last to see the small familiar green form of Elfo dangling from the King's grip by the collar of his shirt. The boy squirms helplessly as he dangles. "Who is this?" Superviso can see the incriminating candy stains on the boy even from here. He has no idea how Elfo got out past the makeshift barricade, or where he took the candy in question from, but now that the King is aware of the boy's presence, there's not too much to be done.

Superviso looks around, trying desperately to find the boy's father and finds the effort futile. He steps forward himself, surprisingly steady as he approaches the king. "I'm sorry your highness. He's my cousin's boy." Such lies. If only they were true. "His name is Elfo."

The absurdity of the name catches against his tongue and he almost chokes on it. What does the name really say about this boy? That he's an elf? Superviso knows that's a lie.

"Elfo, you say?" The king stares at him, then at the boy. "And why is this child not working?" He gave Elfo a shake, causing the boy to whine.

"He's a bit young, highness..." Superviso bites back the words because he knows the Jolly Code. They all do. Old enough to eat candy means old enough to earn it. For a moment, he has a sinking feeling that this might be his own fault. "You're right." he sighs. He's going to wind up the bad guy in this, he knows it. Where is that damn slacker who spawned this child anyway?

Superviso curses his sense of duty as he moves to extricate the sticky young elf from the King's grasp. "He'll begin work tomorrow." He promises, looking around and finally spotting the purple form half hidden behind the crowd.

"See that he does."

And the crowd disperses... not immediately, but as soon as Superviso yells at them to get back to work. The only one who doesn't listen is his fair-weather friend and Superviso shoves the child into his arms. "This is your fault." He says. Elfo is far too young to work. Elf children are supposed to get at least ten or fifteen years of safety in their home trees before taking the line.

But Elfo looks the right age and the King knows who he is and that means there's no options.

The next day he puts the boy on duty, cleaning the chocolate molds. From the baleful looks Elfo is already getting, both from the King and from other mature elves, Superviso starts to fear that the very idea of Elfo being put in anything other than a menial position may be hopeless.

-

He wishes he were wrong about Elfo's future, but the boy is not making it easy for him to be enthusiastic over his prospects.

Elfo goes through so many jobs, even Superviso starts to lose count. Nothing ever fits. How can he be blamed though, when Elfo's name tells them nothing. If he were Cleano or Mixo - or as Superviso might have wanted: Tasto - it would be obvious where he is supposed to be. What is an Elfo anyway? It's the question he knows they're all asking.

He's smart. That surprises Superviso too. Not that elves aren't generally smart, but the boy doesn't look it. There's something about him that Superviso still finds uncanny and he can't put his finger on it. At least he's becoming more and more confident that the boy probably isn't half human and that's a small reassurance. Exactly what he is, it's impossible to tell. Something with a good sense of taste.

The more the boy grows, the more he questions. He asks about things that no elf should ask. The things that Superviso takes as writ, being an elf, are things that Elfo keeps inquiring about. Frustrated at having to answer continuous questions that waste his time, and even more frustrated that it pulls Elfo further and further away from where he should be, Superviso introduces Elfo to their library. It's rarely used, except by Reado who cannot help but peruse every book in the place and Organizo who always finds the way there once and a while to arrange things on the shelves.

This discovery shuts Elfo up for a while and Superviso is grateful to be able to get back to his work. And back to trying to figure out to fix this mess that is his life now.

Then the questions come. What is this. What is that.

"What is sour?" Elfo asks him one day, and Superviso feels a creeping of odd terror up his spine. Elfo can't know what sour tastes like. He knows that, at least. Sourness, even in candy form, is forbidden here.

"Ask your father," he says, small and hushed, then immediately thinks better of it. "No. Don't ask anyone. Don't ever ask that again."

"But why-" Elfo begins and Superviso looks around, with a superstitious fear, like just the mention of such things... unsweet things... is enough to draw attention.

"No questions!" Superviso snaps, urgent. "Just get back to your work! And give me that book!" He tears it from Elfo's hands and is surprised that Elfo tries to grab it back, crying out in protest.

It's not done.

He feels the eyes of the other elves on them at this display and there is a chill in his entire body. Talking back is against the Jolly Code. So is this behaviour. A proper elf, even a child, would not have bucked so hard against Superviso's word. Aside from the king, his word was law... or meant to uphold the law, at least.

They expect him to do something about it and he does. What choice does he have?

Elfo is limping when he's ushered back into his father's care and Superviso can't quite bear to watch. It's only the third time he's ever had to punish someone for breaking the Jolly Code, and considering the fate of the first two, he's gone easy on the boy, really.

He just doesn't have a lot of practice at physical punishment.

He gets more though. A lot more. He starts to hate the candy cane he has to carry around to bop elves who are slacking off. It's become heavier in his grasp than he likes and every time he has to use it makes him so weary.

-

"You need to control him." He says to Elfo's father. It's a refrain repeated so many times that it seems to lose its meaning.

"I can't do that." The other elf admits, and it's the first time he's actually said as much.

Superviso grabs him by the shirt, desperate enough that he risks doing something so physical when they're not quite out in the open. "You HAVE to." He says again, urgent. Then he asks again, aggrieved. "What is he?"

There's a look on the man's face as he asks, something terrible to look at and Superviso pulls away, grimacing. He turns as he hears the slight scuff of tiny feet and sees Elfo standing there, watching them with his big gold eyes. He isn't sure if the boy has heard any of it.

"Elfo." The boy's father speaks, finally. Softly. "Come here, my boy."

And Elfo comes, crossing the floor almost silently. Unlike his pushback against Superviso's commands, he is quiet. He looks up at his father as he draws near and Superviso is once again thrown by how young this child is. He looks so much older than ten. As he passes he comes past Superviso's waist, almost to his chest.

"You've disappointed me, my boy." A purple hand rests on Elfo's shoulder, and the boy makes a small sound at that.

Superviso doesn't get to hear the rest of this lecture because the stare on him tells him that it's time for him to leave.

The next day, Elfo is quiet as he putters around at his job. Superviso isn't sure what changed, exactly. He almost wishes he knew, but he quells any such sentiment. Elfo is working more efficiently now. That's all that matters, isn't it?

-

Superviso should be grateful for the fact that Elfo has settled down. He's a hard little worker, even if he seems listless now. Most of the elves smile and whistle and sing as they work and Elfo is deathly quiet. Occasionally he lets out a soft sigh or a groan while wrapping boxes and Superviso thinks that he should scold Elfo for not maintaining the jolly atmosphere of the place, but mostly he doesn't have the heart for it.

He thinks Elfo would be more enthusiastic in a role better suited to him, but Elfo's behaviour has burned so many bridges that Superviso doesn't dare even approach the candy development department now.

Elfo is late for his shift one day and Superviso doesn't expect it because he's been conforming so well lately. Superviso grumbles to himself as he goes to elmo to fetch the boy, expecting that he's slept in. Given his father, that wouldn't have been a huge surprise.

What he finds IS a huge surprise. Elfo is not asleep when Superviso enters the tree. Instead he's curled in a corner beside the bed, making small noises.

At first, Superviso thinks maybe he's hurt. It happens sometimes, though rarely. As he moves to kneel beside the boy, reaching out a hand to grab hold of his arm, to check if he's okay, he sees something that twists his belly with a mixture of fear and disgust.

There's tears on Elfo's cheeks. The small sounds are not from pain, at least that would be understandable, but a cursory glance shows no wounds. No... the boy is just here in the dark, crying for a reason that's not a horrible injury. It's almost too much to understand and Superviso recoils.

"What are you doing?" He almost screams, feeling a fluttery surge of terror.

Elfo flails in his grip, panicking at being caught. His small chest heaves as he tries briefly to escape before falling still in Superviso's grip.

"Why are you doing this?" Superviso hisses, not sure he wants the answer.

"I..." The boy is shaking. He's afraid. He should be. "I was just..." Superviso hopes for a reasonable answer but his hopes are dashed. "I'm sad..." Elfo finally whispers, soft and anxious and Superviso grabs him by the shirt.

"No." He says. His firm voice even scares himself. "You're not. You can't be." He gives Elfo a shake. "Where did you even learn that word?"

Elfo can't speak but he does make an effort to move in Superviso's grip, to nudge something out of the way with his foot, to move it behind the bed. Superviso catches the motion and scoops the item up before the boy can hide the incriminating evidence.

It's a book. Of course. He should never have given the boy access to the library... certainly not at so young and impressionable an age. How could he have understood any of it? Grown elves didn't even like to peruse this material.

It mean's it's his fault. He's failed this boy.

But no... he can't have. He won't.

He stares at the book, frustrated, knowing that's also something that comes close to breaking the Jolly Code. "You are not to read this again." He tells Elfo when he can calm his voice. Calm and cold.

"But..."

"NO." He repeats. "Not this. Not any books. The library is off limits to you!"

The boy cries out in protest and Superviso has to grab him by the back of his shirt again to fend off the swipe of his hands as he tries to take the book back. Superviso's grip is unrelenting because this can't happen. The Jolly Code says many things but none as important as this. It's the one thing that can't be allowed. Not ever.

If it catches with the others, they're all done. The last time was a nightmare he never wanted to relive.

He and the guards are under orders to deal with such threats by any means necessary... but he can't turn this boy over to them, not when he knows what will happen if he does. He has to stop it some other way.

Being sad is not a reason to cry... but being hurt is. They won't blink at that.

Superviso can't feel good about it though, not even if it means saving the boy from a worse fate. He makes an excuse to the others as he returns to the line, that Elfo tripped and injured himself, that he's in bed getting better.

He hates how easy the lying has become.

He hates a lot of things.

-

When Elfo returns to the line, Superviso puts him on bow duty. It's a simple task. Elfo doesn't complain, but he's stopped crying at least. Superviso's not sure this quiet despondency is any better, but at least it won't be easily caught. The second day into his work, Superviso drops by.

"Here." He says, thrusting a book awkwardly toward Elfo, who seems both hopeful and worried. "Here's a book you can read."

It's the unabridged copy of the Jolly Code and Elfo stares down at the cover blankly before uttering a toneless 'thank you'.

-

Elfo shows up at his door unbidden one evening, and he would be worried about this unexpected visit, at least if he'd been a human living in human chaos. But he was an elf and there is no danger in Elfwood, except for one.

But despite this, he is a bit worried. He doesn't understand this behaviour at all. He's never really understood Elfo and he blames whatever bizarreness lingers in Elfo's mixed blood for the fact that he finds the boy inscrutable at every turn. "Why are you here?" He asks, wary.

Elfo holds up the book to him, his eyes suspicious and bright with distress. "I don't understand." He says, in a desperate little wheeze.

"I know you're not stupid." Superviso says, then regrets it because he wonders if it's why Elfo has such a hard time just accepting what every elf has learned to accept already.

There's a shake of that odd green head, frustration winning out for a moment against better judgement. "It doesn't make any sense. None of this makes any sense. Why is it like this?" He doesn't specify what 'it' is, but the wide gesture of his hands seems to encompass everything around them.

"Look... kid." Superviso pushes the words away because entertaining them would be a disaster. "It just is. Okay. Just accept it." When he sees Elfo's lips tighten in a small gesture of defiance he continues. "You don't matter! None of us matter." He smacks his own hand against the book Elfo is holding in a white knuckled grip. The title of it mocks him. "The Jolly Code says that no elf matters more than upholding the rules. I'm here to uphold those rules! And I will!"

"I don't matter?" Elfo asks. There's some shift in his tone then and he seems uncertain. It's like he wants to hear something that Superviso cannot say.

It wouldn't even matter if he thought the boy mattered. Or if he mattered because of some slowly fading connection Superviso had with the boy's father. Or even if he mattered because the damn half-breed was the closest he'd ever have to raising his own child in a society with so few children left. Nothing on a personal level meant anything anymore.

"No." He says. Just the one word.

Elfo puts his cloth aside, by the pile of half-cleaned dishes. "Okay." he says, and his voice is small and broken.

The next day, Elfo comes to work. Superviso expects some row but it never comes. He finds it all suspicious... or at least somehow disturbing in a way he can't quite identify. He goes over to where Elfo is affixing bows to packages. Elfo looks at him, blankly.

"Just tell me what to do." He says, when Superviso asks if he needs anything.

Superviso feels something that's not guilt. Guilt is for people who break the Jolly Code, not those who uphold it. He tells Elfo to keep working.

-

A couple of years pass and there's no more incidents. Elfo comes up past his shoulder, almost adult height and it's hard to remember that he's just a child. Superviso has to wonder if that's even true... he still has no idea what Elfo is, exactly. He's worried that Elfo will get too big and the lie he's been telling on his friend's behalf will become obvious once Elfo outgrows the standard height of an elf, but it never happens.

He stops getting bigger once he's near Superviso's height, a normal height for an elf. It's hard not to breathe a sigh of relief, even though it also brings more questions.

-

He almost misses the boy's early rambunctiousness. Whenever he has to give a new assignment, it's accepted meekly and without complaint. As much as he'd thought he'd appreciate the obedience - and the safety it entails - it just feels wrong.

Superviso has dinner with his friend and the boy and it's so quiet. Elfo lays out the table and idly pokes at his food.

It's the longest, most tortuous dinner that Superviso has ever had to sit through, even though the food is amazing. Once again he feels a pang of regret at the waste. As he watches Elfo and his father, he wonders how much the two of them actually talk because he knows his friend and he knows he isn't the best at talking. Or connecting, really. Not that Superviso is much better, but there's a reason he was put in charge... it's because he can manage at least a certain amount of interaction.

When dinner is over, he stays to help clean dishes. He watches Elfo from the corner of his eye. The boy is moving without enthusiasm but without protest either, washing the plates and setting them aside. Superviso remembers the boy's reaction years ago, his enthusiasm for candy, and his skill at identification. Elfo should have been put as a cook or a candy crafter... some skill to take advantage of his natural abilities. He knows now that it's a futile thought because no one with so many near violations of the Jolly Code would ever be given such a prestigious position. He'd spent too long hoping for something other than what he knew to be obvious and it had gotten none of them anywhere.

"Elfo." He says, softly. He doesn't have to be quiet though, considering Elfo's father has already taken the opportunity to leave rather than be confronted with more potential awkwardness. It's a trait he's always found bothersome and finds it even more so now. "Are you..." He doesn't know the word to use.

Worse. He does. He just can't say it.

"Are you okay?" He settles on, at last.

Elfo pauses in his motions, the cleaning rag still held in his fingers. He looks at Superviso out of the corner of his eye and for just a moment Superviso thinks that the emotion he's seeing is fear. But the words are bland. "Of course."

Fear is something he does understand. Every elf has to have at least a little. It's why the Jolly Code works.

It just feels so strange here.

"Are you sure?" He asks again, prodding, realizing too late that he really should just leave the boy alone.

Elfo's hands rest on the edge of the sink and he stares down into the water. His fingers clench until the blood flushes from them. "Does it matter?" Superviso almost isn't sure if the words or real or he's hearing things. It stings either way.

"Maybe..." He says, not sure what else he can say. He can't say no, again.

It doesn't matter. He knows that. No one elf really matters. The words he told Elfo earlier echo in his ears and when he leaves their elm and goes home to his own home, a solid, boring oak with virtually nothing of distinction, he has to remind himself that his own opinions don't matter either. Not in the face of the greater good of all elf kind.

-

It's hard not to notice when Kissy starts to show interest in Elfo. She's never been the most subtle of elves, and Superviso knows she's quite fond of a lot of other elves who work the line, both male and female. And they are fond of her, at least in short bursts.

She has her choice of any elf she wants... why she chooses Elfo is inexplicable.

Superviso feels dismay as Elfo starts to return the interest. On the one hand, it keeps him from moping... but on the other... well...

"You shouldn't do anything with Kissy," He tells Elfo sternly, when the young elf is about to head home from work.

"Why not?" Elfo said, the first time he's shown any fire in ages. "I like Kissy. And she likes me."

"She's the King's daughter." It's frustrating that he has to remind Elfo of what everyone knows.

"So what?"

The words seem to surprise Elfo as much as they surprise Superviso. They both pause, staring at each other for a moment as though questioning whether that utterance really happened.

Superviso feels a stab of despair as he sees Elfo's look settle into determination. He's seen that look in the boy's eyes before... back when he was actually a boy and not the adult-sized elf he now was. It was the look he'd almost forgotten.

Life. That's what it is. That blank hopeless look is burned away.

He'd almost be happy to see it, if only he didn't know it was leading to inevitable disaster. He isn't sure what to do, whether there is something he can do. He's not sure if he should even try.

Elfo walks away past him, back to his job and Superviso leans heavily against the wall and lets out a breath. He feels eyes on him and he doesn't turn as he keens out the question again. "What is he? Tell me."

He feels a hand on his shoulder, turns his head to see purple fingers, a familiar purple face. The expression he sees could almost match his own, resignation and all. Fabric is pressed into his hand and he frowns looking down at it. It's a simple needlepoint. He can see it through the fabric backing.

Then he unfolds it.

-

He doesn't try to speak as Elfo opens the entrance to Elfwood.

It's inevitable. He realizes now, and thinks that he must always have known. It had always been inevitable. Elfwood is for elves, and he's not even sure that it still serves them the way he'd always believed it did.

And Elfo is not an elf.

He'd thought the boy was going to die before reaching this. He's not sure if he's relieved that Elfo has escaped or... something not quite happy... at the other inevitability that came with the outside world.

The outside world kills elves. But maybe... maybe Elfo's other half will be enough to keep him safe.

"You'll die out there." Kissy calls out, a last ditch effort.

Elfo doesn't hesitate. He keeps going forward. Superviso knows now that he's been holding Elfo back all these years... they all have. Maybe there's somewhere in the outside world where Elfo belongs. He feels a slight pang as the words reach his ears.

"I'd rather die a big death, than live a small life."

For a moment, as the door pulls closed and Elfo's small form is swallowed up by the outside, Superviso feels almost proud.

That night he sits on his bed, the bottle beside him, open and ready to drink. Instead he reaches for a book that he's kept far too long instead of returning it after confiscating it from Elfo. He looks at his drink, traces the neck of the bottle, then leaves it there. He's never read it. Never read any of the books, though he knows how. He's not sure what difference it would even make.

He flips the book open to the first page.

-

End

 

 

 


End file.
